Cruising along, we were soon in the semi-finals, pitched against a local team of a Garhwal Rifles battalion who gave us a good run for our money that Friday evening!
Oh, by the way, the Centre-Forward of my battalion team had scored three goals in the tournament by then. And yes, that was me!
I was having a good run over the past few days – playing my match whether it was scheduled in the morning or the evening session, and spending rest of the day training with the mine laying team!
Anyhow, as they say, all good things must finally come to an end. So did this glory run of mine on the day of the semi-finals.
The opponent team was a good and strong one indeed. What added to the sense of competition was the fact that they and us were part of the same brigade, entrusted to go to war together. But here, this meant that we were in a bitter battle amongst ourselves.
Mind you, I use the word ‘bitter’ in the above statement with due consideration. It was a matter of honour for both the teams – us because, well, we were the most hyped up team, and they, because not only were they organizing the tournament, but this particular match was to be played on their home ground!
Needless to say, both the battalions turned out in nearly full strength to cheer their respective teams. This included ladies and children of the soldiers as well. Of course, occupying the best seats in the ground were the Brigade Commander himself along with his wife, flanked by both his Commanding Officers and their wives as well.
As I said, it was perhaps the toughest match of the tournament that we played. The Garhwalis were a bunch of good footballers individually, as well as a team. But then, so were we.
Just short of the half-time mark I sensed an opportunity as someone lobbed a ball towards the goal. To be fair, it was the goalkeeper’s ball, yet I in my exuberance decided to attempt to head it into the goal.
Of course the inevitable happened.
My 52 kilo frame collided mid-air with the goalkeeper’s 66 kilo frame!
The result was as expected. One moment I was up in the air, dreaming of yet another goal and the next moment I was lying flat on the ground, unable to breathe!
Pretty soon people realized that I was badly off. The match was stopped and medics rushed to the ground. I am told that I lay immobile for more than five minutes. I was conscious throughout, but was struggling to breathe, or even move.
Thankfully, I gradually regained control of my faculties and slowly got up, to a huge sigh of relief all around. After moving around tentatively for a while, trying to ascertain my state of health, I declared that I would carry on with the game, without substitution. That the half-time was hardly five minutes away also played a part in this decision.
In the midst of it all, my immediate senior in the battalion, or my senior subaltern, who was my earmarked substitute, had puffed away on three cigarettes, in the worry that he might finally be called upon to enter the field to try and kick a ball!
Anyhow, the match commenced and soon half-time was called. I spent the entire half-time lying on a bench, trying to recover from the fall that had nearly broken my neck.
Somewhat rejuvenated, I entered the second half with renewed gusto.
However, that too was soon kicked out of my system!
At some point in that half, I was running after an opponent who had the ball, trying to take it away from him. Somehow, in the process, his elbow connected with my jaw.
Whether it was intentional or unintentional is immaterial now after all these years.
What followed after that moment, however, is going to be etched in my memory forever!
It all happened in slow motion. I was insanely mad the moment he hit me. I knew I was falling down. In that moment all I wanted to do was to make him fall down too.
So I tried to grab hold of him on my way to meet the ground.
Unfortunately, I only managed to grab his shorts. Resultantly, he himself didn’t fall down, but was definitely immobilized, trying to pull up his shorts and cover his modesty, but for one little problem – I had a death grip on that particular garment at that moment!
He knew I was mad.
I think everyone in the ground and those watching the match knew it as well.
I also think my senior subaltern had lit up yet another cigarette by then!
Anyhow, oblivious to all of this, the moment I finished falling, I shouted some of the choicest profanities at him at the top of my voice.
And right at about that very moment, I slowly became aware of my surroundings.
I was lying on the ground at about the half-line of the field, less than six metres from the dais seating the Brigade Commander, both Commanding Officers and their wives.
And I was still holding the opponent’s shorts!
That poor fellow! All that he could do was look pleadingly at me!
Anyhow, realizing that I had landed myself in a pickle, I knew I needed a way out of this mess as well. So I did the next best thing that came to my mind – I let go of that guy’s shorts, got up and ran away from the scene as if nothing had happened!
All of this had happened in a span of less than 10 seconds, during which I, perhaps the most docile youngster of the battalion, had nearly stripped a guy half-naked and had also let lose a volley of profanities well within the earshot of some very senior officers and their wives. Not just that, but I had also ended up establishing momentary eye-contact with them all during all this!
And the match continued.
The opponents were a tough bunch, almost as good as us!
Anyhow, the second half as well as the extra time ended with neither team able to score a goal. So it all came down to the penalty shoot-out.
What happened next would put any sports thriller movie to shame.
We missed both the goals in the first two attempts while the Garhwalis scored on both occasions.
A deathly silence descended over our side of the audience, even as the home crowds of the opponents went wild with ecstasy.
But there were three more attempts left.
There was still hope, however dim.
However, I couldn’t bear to see it. I turned away from the scene of action, knowing that we were on the verge of losing the match after all those months of toil and the past few days of not conceding a single goal while scoring in excess of 30, even if more than half of them came against a single team.
So I decided to try and shut myself out of the humiliation that was sure to come, turning my back to the scene of the action and closing my eyes.
Only that it didn’t turn out that way.
God bless Rakesh, our goalkeeper, who saved ALL THREE attempts on his goalpost while the rest of our shooters scored all three!
The entire field soon erupted with wild shrieks of joy as practically the entire battalion of mine rushed onto the field to lift the team on their shoulders. It took quite some time and efforts for order to be restored so that the customary End of Match ceremonies could be conducted.
Match in bag, the Gorkhas and their families marched off to their lines in one big and slow victory procession, with the Commanding Officer himself dancing away in bliss, alongwith them.
Of course, the broken and battered me quietly drove back home to my wife of five months who was shocked out of her wits when she saw me. It took quite some time and effort to stop her from crying!
Thankfully, seeing my state, the Battalion 2iC had excused me from an Officers’ Mess function to which we all were invited later that evening. I was really badly off from both the injuries. In fact, such was the injury to my jaw that for the next four days I couldn’t eat any solid food, and had to rely on fluids instead!
A good night’s rest later, I woke up fresh and ready to take on the world the next day, which happened to be a Saturday. The first order of the day was to get ready and move out with the Battalion Mine Laying Team to the site of the competition, some 75 minutes’ drive away!
Anyhow, we did our bit in the mine laying competition and rushed back because we all were keen to be there in time for the final match of the football championship later that evening; my fellow mine-laying buddies because they wanted to see and cheer their team and I, because .. well .. I was the damned captain of the team and could not be found missing from the finals!
The final match was with a fellow Gorkha battalion of a neighbouring brigade who surprised us by scoring the first goal. Mind you, it was the first field goal scored against our team in that tournament. Yet they weren’t half as tough a competition as the Garhwalis whom we had met and defeated in the semis barely 24 hours ago. Needless to say, we soon scored two goals and took a lead by the second half.
As the match drew to a close, the opponent team tried desperately to equalize. After a point in time, they pushed practically each and every player of theirs into our half, hoping to swamp us and score. But they still couldn’t succeed.
At this point in time, a foul-ball somewhere near the half-line led to us getting possession and a free kick. I don’t know what came over me, but just as the ball was passed to the Right-Out of my team, I made a mad dash for the goalpost.
Sarad, the Right-Out soon reached the corner of the field and I shouted out to him for a pass. He obliged by lobbing the ball towards the goalpost and I managed to head it, thereby scoring what was to be the final goal of the tournament!
The moment I realized I had scored, I was beside myself with joy.
The very next moment came a pat on my back. I turned to see who it was.
It was the oldest member of the team, a recently promoted NCO named Norgen. Yes, he came up to me to give me a pat on my back. And he said, ‘Hard work ALWAYS gets you good reward.’
Mind you, the English translation doesn’t even come close to what he actually said in Nepalese that evening, and the way he said it.
But here it was - an NCO giving a pat on the back to a young officer. An officer, who was in a way, not so young anymore, having spent more than 30 months in the battalion and already mentoring two younger officers himself. Yet my own mentorship too continued apace.
Norgen had only done what came quite naturally to him. He had seen me toil and sweat and bleed with the team for the past many months. He had seen me work harder than most of my teammates because whereas they had sheer talent and were the best of the best available in the battalion, I had to rely on pure hard work just to play catch-up with them.
Through this all, the team had carried me along, ending with a high when I scored that final goal. I have no shame in admitting that this remains the very best football team I have seen the battalion field, even 18 years later, including the three during which I commanded the battalion and tried to replicate it.
Norgen went on to play for the Army Team soon thereafter, as did two more boys from the team.
Oh, my wife was also there in the audience that evening when I scored that goal. Too bad that she was busy chatting with someone and missed seeing me score that goal!
Before I forget, a quick word about the mine-laying competition as well!
Many weeks later, the Battalion Subedar Major, the seniormost JCO and the grand old man of the battalion, told me what went through his mind when he saw me fall in the semi-final. Expecting a word or two of concern about one of the battalion officers, I looked at him in anticipation.
‘The moment you fell, I thought who would take the mine-laying team for the competition tomorrow’, he said!
It took me a moment to digest what I had just heard. I am sure the Subedar Major would have seen a flood of emotions crossing my face, before I realized that he did have a point!
We stood second in the entire Division in that competition as well!
That was one hell of a tenure. We worked hard .. insanely hard, in fact.
And we played hard!